I am moving. I might have mentioned that this was going on, but now it is not just going on, it is going.
I am moving from Hamilton, Montana to Brookings, Oregon. I don't know how far of a distance that is in a straight line, but by the freeways and highways that must curve around or follow three mountain ranges and The Columbia River Gorge, it takes 919 miles. This is further than the distance from New York City to Atlanta. This is, if I have calculated kilometers to miles correctly, further than the distance from Warsaw, Poland to Paris, France. But (in a statement that might confuse or annoy some people) if you were to drive from New York to Atlanta, or Warsaw to Paris, you wouldn't cross any natural obstacles, and the terrain and vegetation would be the same all the way across, my trip will cover some of the most varied terrain in North America: from the snow storms of The Rockies at Lookout Pass, to the stark dry terrain of Eastern Washington and the Columbia River Gorge, to the warm humid temperate rain forest of the Coast Range, I will be passing through many environments, separated by formidable natural barriers.
There is a lot to see on this trip, especially considering that my past year, or even several years, the geometries that inscribe my life have grown ever smaller, being more and more trapped in the sleepy, pleasant but boring bubble that is life in Montana.
But for all of that, mostly what I will see on this trip is the road, motels, and convenience stores. I won't get a chance to delve into what makes all these communities great and unique. There are millions of stories in the city, but even a small town can manage hundreds. But I won't learn them: I will just see all of this whizzing by.
But that is a small price to pay, for the rewards of starting my new life.